Starling (57 page)

She almost laughed. “Falco,” she said. “You can’t be serious. This
is all just because you thought I was dead.”
“So what if it is? Don’t you understand that seeing you last night
changed everything for me?” he asked. “When I realized you were
alive, it was like I had gotten a second chance at everything I wanted.
I can be
your
second chance. Forget this obsession with the book and
the Order. So what if they’re evil? They can’t touch us if they can’t
find us. Run away with me. Tonight.”
The words were gorgeous, but maybe that was the problem. Cass
couldn’t reach beyond them and grab hold of the emotion. They felt
fragile, a cheap marble façade that would splinter into pieces under
pressure. “I can’t just walk away. Belladonna is stealing blood from
women. She’s murdering people.”
“Even if she is, what if the book isn’t enough to stop her?”
“Oh, you believe me now?” Cass said snippily.
“I started to tell you at Palazzo Domacetti before you ran off. I
had begun to suspect something wasn’t quite right back in Florence.
I did a little spying in Piero’s quarters and found vials of what appeared to be blood.” Falco rubbed at the scar below his eye. “Before
I could investigate further, I heard from Madalena about your plan
to break into the Doge’s prison. I returned to Venice hoping to stop
you. But I was too late.” He exhaled deeply. “As if any man could
stop you once you set your mind to something.”
“I have set my mind to destroying the Order,” Cass said firmly.
Falco sighed again. He reached out to touch her lily necklace. “Is
it Luca?” he asked. “Is this vengeance?”
Defiantly, Cass tucked the pendant back into her chemise. “Luca
is alive,” she said.
“Ah.” Falco nodded knowingly. “So then you two are still planning to marry . . .”
“It’s not that simple,” she said. “First we must stay alive long
enough to clear our names.” Tears rose up from within her, suddenly,
almost violently. Even if they were pardoned of their crimes, Luca
still might never forgive her. Swallowing back a sob, she turned away
from Falco, toward the window, toward the night. She did not want
him to see her cry.
Falco took hold of her shoulders and turned her toward him. “All
I know is that you’re hurting, and he’s not here where he should be.”
He cradled her chin in one hand and traced his fingers along the
ridge of her jaw. Slowly, his touch went from comforting to caressing.
Cass felt the change in his body, the slow, seductive way he wiped
away each individual tear. And though it was wrong of her, so awfully, horribly wrong, she felt herself responding. Wanting. Welcoming his touch.
He leaned in, his hair soft against the side of her face. His lips
brushed first across her forehead, then across the bridge of her nose.
She grabbed the fabric of his doublet and twisted it beneath her
fingers. She was lonely. Luca had pushed her away. That dead look
he had given her before he left—it was as if she’d become a stranger
to him. She had hurt him one too many times. He might never forgive
her.
Something inside of her must have gone tense, because Falco
stopped what he was doing long enough to murmur, “Don’t fight it,
starling. We both want this.”
But all she ever did with Falco was fight. About science or religion
or vampires or right and wrong. They fought about Luca and Ma